Lean on me (like I lean on you)
by Yessica-N
Summary: Even the great Papyrus had bad days. Luckily he isn't alone for them.


**This was a commission for somebody on tumblr who requested Papyrus having a bad day and his friends helping him get through it. Hope you like!**

* * *

The door swings open just an inch, forcing a thin strip of illumination into his brother's room. The curtains are drawn tight, the night light is off.

Silence, but Sans knows Papyrus is awake from the way the blankets shift, pulling taunt along the edges.

He steps back, leans on the doorway and tries to see the light streaming into their living room window downstairs.

It can't be much earlier than noon and Papyrus is still in bed. Burrowed beneath the covers, no less.

That's not a good omen.

He enters on tip-toes, almost trips over a clutter of action figures, which is also a bad sign by the way. A horrible sign.

Sans can already feel the anxiety well up in his gut.

"Bro...?" He tries carefully and Papyrus peeks out at him from beneath the mountain of pillows he has used to completely bury his skull.

Sans feels like he's talking to some kind of cryptid cave dweller.

"How you doing, Pap? Is it one of those days?"

There's a hum in response, almost inaudible, before his brother sits up suddenly, flinging half his bedding across the room.

He's wearing Pj's. The worst of all signs. Basically a forebode of the apocalypse.

"Sans. After I die would you be so kind as to deliver my comic collection to Alphys. I think I forgot to add that to my will."

Sans laughs, the kind of unguarded huff of air let out at the bad jokes that he usually is the deliverer of. "You're not dying, bro."

Papyrus gives him the look. The same one he gave Sans when he first brought the pet rock home.

The one he gave Sans when he proudly explained his water dog sale plan.

Probably the very same one they shared when Sans finally confessed to remembering resets.

A distinct look.

"I could comment on the always present inevitability of death, Sans, but you know that's not what I meant."

There's not much he can say to that. Not without sounding like an idiot, at least.

Sans hates it. He wouldn't consider himself very emotionally strong as a person. He knows better than anybody what it's like to have a crummy day.

Days when your mind seems more concerned with running circles around itself than actually performing basic functions.

And he can see the way his brother's eyes wander. The floor a messy testimony to a sleepless night. Shoulders set tight and hands fluttering from place to place like an indecisive butterfly.

Thoughts racing endlessly.

The problem is, when Sans gets like that, he can always count on Papyrus to pick him up and carry him through it.

Literally, in some cases.

Sans isn't so sure he can return the favor.

* * *

Which doesn't mean he can't try, clumsily so.

It takes a bit of coaxing, and maybe a small bribe in the form of promising Papyrus he can pick what they watch on tv tonight, but Sans eventually succeeds in getting his brother downstairs.

He sits at the table and taps his fingers against the wooden surface over and over and over again and maybe it low key drives Sans crazy, but it's a start.

"Do you want some oatmeal?" Sans asks, hoping maybe getting Papyrus his favorite food could do the trick but the taller skeleton shakes his head, clenches one fist tightly against the table. He's not looking at Sans.

It makes him kind of sick, Papyrus refusing to eat. It reminds him of the old days.

"That's fine, I'll just make some pancakes."

Which is all well and dandy of him to say, if it weren't for the fact he doesn't have the slightest clue how to make those.

Honestly though, how hard can it be?

Is what he thought, and yes maybe in some weird warped way Sans should be considered a genius, the laws of physics don't hold many secrets to him. But he doesn't feel too smart right now, with a billowing cloud of black smoke filing their kitchen and a pan in his hands that is very much on fire.

He knew he should have just gone to Grillby's.

Thankfully, Papyrus snatches the safety hazard from his hands and hurls it out of the nearest window. Sans cringes, waiting for the accompanying sound of glass shattering but it remains lacking.

Apparently his brother had the foresight to open it before his daring rescue.

"Sans." He says, slowly, pronouncing the word like it's an entire novel. One that spans over a thousand pages.

Sans blinks up at him, silent.

"That's not how you make pancakes, Sans."

"I noticed." He says. The snow is distantly hissing outside, melting beneath the pan's scorching heat. "I have no clue how to cook, Pap. I didn't know what you were expecting."

Papyrus smiles. Just a bit, a little smirk of something, and then he sighs and shakes his head. Sans considers it a victory nonetheless.

"I guess we're having oatmeal then."

* * *

There's a calculated risk to allowing Undyne into your house. Mainly a collateral damage hazard.

But Papyrus is sitting on the couch, knees pulled up to his chest, feet resting on the pillow and while Sans is happy he has eaten now, the lackluster energy his brother is displaying leaves something to be desired.

The newspaper couldn't interest him, not even the astrology section. He doesn't feel like reading or going out for a walk or even designing a new trap. Nothing.

So inviting the captain of the royal guard herself over to cheer him up seemed like an excellent plan.

Sans doesn't think he has ever seen the two of them together without something blowing up or breaking down. Undyne's enthusiasm is like a contagious whirlwind, especially where Papyrus is concerned. Somehow they manage to bring out the worst _and_ the best in each other, and this time Sans is taking a bet on the latter.

He's already second guessing his choice by the time Undyne breaks their front door down, it falls clear of its hinges seeing as it has been subjected to similar treatments before.

"Tell me where the local sad dork is!" She announces, posing in the splintered doorway like some kind of superhero moments before they save the world and ok, yes.

This might or might not work after all.

But that it will serve as a distraction is for sure.

"Undyne. What are you doing here?" Papyrus asks, and though his voice is still flat it lifts on the last syllable. There's some curiosity peeked there. Just a tiny bit of surprise.

"I heard you were sad, so I came as soon as I could." She says, a complete hyperbole. But Papyrus clenches his hands around his femurs.

"You did?" He asks, squinting at her. That poisonous trace of doubt that makes Sans feel guilty all over again. Maybe he thinks she's lying.

Maybe he thinks it's silly anybody would care if he wasn't feeling well.

"Duh!" She flops onto the seat next to him, draping one arm around his shoulder dramatically and her teeth are like razors, a grin sharp enough to cut. "And I brought anime."

Papyrus groans, head falling back against the couch and Undyne laughs loudly at his reaction.

"Children's cartoons aren't going to cheer me up." He complains.

"Ok, first off." She pulls the unresistant skeleton closer, basically forcing him into a headlock "If you were anybody else, I would have to kill you for saying that."

Sans watches the display meekly, not sure yet if it's helping or not but maybe Papyrus is grinning just a little bit. Shoulders relaxed in Undyne's hold and fingers finally unclenched.

"Secondly, obviously I brought the absolute best." She pulls a dvd out of thin air, wiggling it in front of her friend, a coveted prize just for him. "It has huge ass robots."

Papyrus nods, putting one hand on his chin as if he's deliberating his options here. "How huge?"

"Freaking enormous."

* * *

Apparently that was all the convincing his brother needed because an hour later Sans finds himself squeezed into a corner of the couch as the screen flashes bright colors of red and blue. There's a lot of yelling and lasers and indeed, as Undyne had promised, some very very big robots.

Papyrus is sitting to his left, bouncing up and down with every battle cry and elbowing Undyne in the side. She elbows back, equally eager and swept up in the story line, she throws up her arms when there's an explosion on the screen, the volume loud enough to rock the foundations of their house.

Between this and the pancake incident, Sans expects a noise complaint in the mailbox tomorrow.

Alphys showed up half-way between the second episode and she's sitting on the armrest, legs propped up in Undyne's lap, adding her own comments now and then while making her opinions public through her phone.

All in all it's nothing short of cozy.

Sans leans back, he's already feeling tired despite barely having done anything today, but Papyrus is laughing, his gaze steady and there might still be a tremor in his hands, a kind of guarded tightness to his back that leaves him uncomfortable, but he's not thinking anymore, Sans can tell.

Mission accomplished.

He feels his brother squeeze his hand and opens his eyes, not even aware he closed them in the first place. Papyrus is leaning close, having a hard time being heard above the ruckus that is Japanese children's cartoons.

"Thank you, Sans." He says.

"Hey, no problem bro."

He's sure they'll both sleep well tonight.

* * *

 **Big thank you to the commissioner for supporting my work 3**


End file.
